Forms of Shelter by Angela Davis-Gardner

Author:Angela Davis-Gardner
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9780440337270
Publisher: Random House Publishing Group
Published: 2007-10-30T00:00:00+00:00

When Jack and Mama came to pick us up the next afternoon they already knew; I could tell by the way they held their faces away from me. On the drive home, Stevie and I stared out our windows. No one spoke.

When we went in the house, Jack said, “You get upstairs. You and I have some talking to do.”

I sat on the edge of my bed and waited, my heart thumping hard.

Jack came in and shut the door.

“I want to talk to my mother,” I said.

“Let’s get one thing straight.” He pulled the dressing table chair close to me and sat down. “This is my house, I am your father. Now tell me the truth, or there’ll be trouble. How many times have you seen this boy?”

“Just twice.”

“What did he do to you?”

“What do you mean?”

“You know what I mean. I mean this.” He reached out and rubbed his thumb hard against my mouth. “And this,” he said. He flicked his hand across my breast.

“Stop it!” I said, hitting out at him. He caught my wrist and held it.

“You can’t go with boys like that, Beryl. They’ve got one thing on their minds.” He tapped a finger on my wrist. “You may not see him again.”

“NO!” I yelled. I tried to jerk back my hand but he held tight. “I hate you!”

“Oh, that’s a fine thing.” He dropped my hand as he stood. “After I take you in, after I pick up the pieces. Maybe I shouldn’t even bother.” He walked out of the room and slammed the door, then opened it again. “I’ll be in my study,” he said, “if you see fit to apologize.”

I remember how I sat looking into my room, remember how thin the air seemed. I remember how I stood already feeling nothing and walked down the hall to his study: because I thought I had no choice.

I knocked and went in. He was sitting at his desk, his back toward me, gazing out the window. From the angle of his head I thought he was looking into the Osage orange tree. I had a sudden vision of myself there on the platform, my sad face among the leaves.

“I’m sorry,” I said.

He turned and looked at me. “I accept your apology,” he said. He stood and walked toward me, his face changing as he came closer. “I’m just trying to help you, honey. You know that, don’t you?”

I nodded.

“Tell me why,” he said.

“Because you’re my father.”

“That’s right. Why else?”

“I don’t know.”

“Because I love you, silly goose.” He put his hands on my shoulders and shook me. His eyes were shiny with tears. “You love your Jack?”

I nodded.

“That’s my girl.” He pulled me toward him and hugged me against his chest. I could feel the warmth of his skin beneath the tennis shirt. “Everything’s going to be all right, Beryl,” he whispered, kissing the top of my head. “You’ll see.”

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